


monsters are always hungry, darling

by CallicoKitten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Bloodplay, Character Study, M/M, Post season 3a, Psychopaths In Love, duke is an awful awful character but he could be so wonderful, i could honestly write an epic of my peter headcanons, i shouldnt be so worked up about an mtv show about teenage werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:23:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deucalion smells him before he hears him, before he sees him. </p><p>"You're a lot later than I thought you would be," he drawls, turns to the open window. Peter Hale is no longer the scrawny youth whose name was so often accompanied by Talia sighing, Talia shaking her head. He's still handsome, his eyes are still an unnaturally bright blue but there's something that clings to him now, something <em>lacking</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	monsters are always hungry, darling

**Author's Note:**

> deucalion is an awful, poorly written character but oh, potential.
> 
> unbeta'd
> 
> title from crush by richard siken 
> 
> i may rework this

_We are all searching_  
for someone whose demons  
play well with ours. 

-

Deucalion sits in his apartment and waits.

He's looking around at all the little details he's never been able to see before - the swirly patterns on the coffee table, dark against the pale wood, the awful wallpaper Kali had picked out, the little signs of life (a blue hoodie on the couch, a magazine stuffed into the gap between two seat cushions, a mug from earlier.) There are three empty rooms down the hall - Kali, Ennis, Ethan and Aiden. Deucalion isn't sure how he's supposed to feel. 

Two members of his pack (because they still _feel_ like _his_ even if the madness has quieted somewhat and he can feel the twins pulling away) are dead. _Not good enough_ , the madness hisses. _They were weak._

Maybe Scott and Derek expect him to weep. 

Maybe they expect him to pay a visit to the Argents downstairs and offer up his neck as penance. 

_Ridiculous._

He supposes he's meant to feel grateful; they gave him his life and gave him back his sight and with it came some lingering piece of sanity. He's supposed to feel guilty (guilty because he can still hear his pack's howls of fear as he killed them, can still smell Marco's blood, can still feel Ennis' last gasping breath) but he doesn't. There is _something_ roiling in his gut - something like regret, something like despair. The part of him that can now think clearly is repulsed by his actions (the other part - the part that _craves_ the blood and the screams and the chaos, the part that is _animal_ , wolf, says that it is just his nature.) He is (was) the wolf that makes (made) others cower - the apex of apex predators (and he was defeated by a group of teenagers.) 

He could go back and finish them off.

Tear them apart, wipe those smug smiles off their faces. A man of _vision_ , they called him. Maybe once. Back when he thought things could be done _peacefully_ , when he thought people and hunters and wolves could live side by side. Scott will learn that lesson the hard way, Deucalion is sure. It is so easy to start life with optimism, to believe that one can go through life without corruption. 

Scott will fall far one day. People like him always do. 

Deucalion could leave this place, go where no one knows him. Maybe back to England. Start a new pack. Pretend there was never any such thing as the demon wolf or alpha packs or the best of the best but he won't. (He can’t. He’s not that man anymore - never will be.)

Instead he snaps his walking cane in two and stares at the door. He's waiting for his reckoning because he knows that it is coming. He's not sure who it will be, perhaps the Hale girl, maybe one or both of the twins (if they're alive) maybe the new Argent girl. 

Maybe they’ll tear out his throat. 

(Maybe he wants them too.)

-

Deucalion smells him before he hears him, before he sees him. 

"You're a lot later than I thought you would be," he drawls, turns to the open window. Peter Hale is no longer the scrawny youth whose name was so often accompanied by Talia sighing, Talia shaking her head. He's still handsome, his eyes are still an unnaturally bright blue but there's something that clings to him now, something _lacking_.

This isn’t justice - Peter has as much blood on his claws as Deucalion but he's here for a reason. He must be. 

(Deucalion fucked him once, hard and fast on the forest floor, before he'd lost his sight, before Gerard and insanity. He'd felt so guilty afterwards - if Talia had _found out_ \- Peter had laughed at him. Laughed and laughed and laughed. He wonders if Peter would still whine like he used to, if he'd still gasp and buck and beg for it when his bravado fell away.)

Peter grins, takes a step into the apartment, "I had another date. Don't get jealous though, _Duke_ , she wasn't half the fun _you'll_ be."

"Insufferable as always," Deucalion mutters. He can smell blood on Peter familiar blood. "You killed the Druid."

"Bingo. You've got to be more thorough with your killing blows, Duke. It really is _embarrassing_ when you can’t finish off one little magic girl." 

Deucalion shifts in his seat as Peter steps closer, "Are you here to kill me, Peter?"

Peter pauses, cocks his head. There's genuine curiosity in his eyes (the one thing Deucalion has always liked about the other wolf.) "That depends," Peter says, drawing closer, "on _you_." Peter reaches him and leans down slightly, so they're eye to eye. There's something of Talia in the shape of his eyes and the cut of his jaw and Deucalion may not have ever worked out whether he was in love with Talia but the similarity is enough to make his heart stutter. 

"What are you going to do, Deucalion? Now you’re a free man." Peter asks, ghosting a claw across Deucalion's cheek. Deucalion tenses. Peter is treading dangerously and he must know it because there's a flicker of doubt in his eyes (oh, how wonderful it is to see again) and he drops his hand to hover above Deucalion's. 

"I don't know, Peter. It depends." Peter grins, he's intrigued now. Deucalion wonders how Peter envisioned this and if its going to plan. "What about you, Peter?" Deucalion asks, meeting the other wolf's eyes. "What are you doing?" He doesn't need to ask; he already knows. Peter wants what's he always wanted, what he's never had, _power_. It's dull, unimaginitive but then Deucalion has spent the majority of the last eight years as a cliched comic-bookish villain. 

Peter seems to be considering his answer so Deucalion rolls his eyes, "Power, Peter. That's the answer. That's always been the answer."

Peter's eyes narrow and he curls his lip, "And _you_ weren't after power then, were you? _Alpha of alphas_." The playfulness is gone from his tone, Peter always was a sensitive boy.

Deucalion chuckles, "Yes, not one of my better moments." But then Peter's hand is curled around his throat, claws pressing delicately into his skin. Peter's looking at him hungrily. "I could rip your throat out, you know," he says with the barest hint of a growl. "It'd be one hell of a _buzz_. Think you’d be more of a boost than the druid?" 

_This is getting silly._ Deucalion's hand is up and around Peter's throat before the other wolf can react. He digs his claws in and a single drop of blood rolls sluggishly down Peter's throat. Peter makes a soft sound, halfway between surprise and interest as his own grip loosens and then falls away. "Could you?" Deucalion breathes. "Could you, really? From what I've heard you've died once already, do you want to try again? I'm sure I could make it a little more _permanent_."

Peter swallows, there's the barest hint of fear in his expression but then its gone and he's grinning. "I knew they shouldn't have let you go. You haven't changed a bit. You're still a killer."

Deucalion comes to a decision and stands, grip tightening on Peter's throat. He owes Scott and Derek, loath as he is to admit it, and he will repay them quietly. " _Au contraire_ , I've changed a lot." He strides forward, Peter steps backwards carefully. "Now, you, _you_ Peter, you haven't changed a bit. You're still that broken little boy hiding behind your wit and your snarl. What's your plan, hm? Maybe you'll gain enough power to kill Scott but then what? You won't have a pack, they'll best you again. What's your plan?"

Peter snarls(and, _ah_ there he is, the angry boy Deucalion remembers bubbling up between the cracks in Peter's facade.) Peter's rage could be useful if he could utilise it better. "I _have a plan_." 

"Of course you do," Deucalion smiles, allows his claws to unsheath just a little more. "But you must broaden your horizons. What do you really want, Peter? Power? Revenge?"

Peter is watching him carefully (Deucalion can feel each breath he takes, can feel the steady beat of his pulse), "What would you suggest?" 

_Got you,_ Deucalion thinks. He won't kill Peter Hale, not tonight, not ever, but he will distract him. Take him out of Scott's way for a while, consider his debt repaid. He shifts his hand from Peter's throat to cup Peter's face, claws pressing just enough to be uncomfortable. "Oh, Peter. I am _brimming_ with ideas." 

There’s a moment where the other wolf glances away - lost in thought, weighing up his options. Then Peter’s eyes meet his, “You know,” he says carefully. “Christopher has his good old dad hidden away a few towns over. I’ve been meaning to pay him a visit.”

 _Ah._ Deucalion grins.

Peter smiles back and takes Deucalion's hand, he raises it to his mouth and licks the blood from his claws. 

-

They tear Gerard apart and leave his room a bloodbath. 

It’s the most fun Deucalion’s had in years.

-

Later, Peter will be sprawled across Deucalion's bed and the sheets will be bloody and torn and Deucalion will say, "Come with me. Beacon Hills can wait."

There will be scratches lazily healing on his back and Peter will roll to face him and smirk, cleaning blood off his claws. "Omegas never last long in the wild, _Duke._ You know that." But he'll say yes anyway. 

(And there will be nights where they'll tear at each other, strip each other to the bare bones of their existence and there will be nights where Peter will jerk awake from nightmares and wrap himself around Deucalion, press his face into his neck and Deucalion will pretend he doesn't feel the warmth of tears on his bare flesh and wind his fingers through Peter's hair. There will be nights too when Deucalion will lie awake and think about raking his claws across Peter's throat and there will be nights where Peter does the same. 

And eventually there will be a day that Deucalion loses his grip on Peter and he leaves, goes back to destroy the town he grew up in, maybe Deucalion will follow him. 

Probably not though.)


End file.
